


Happy Christmas, Brother Mine

by trillian_jdc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Reconciliation, Secret Crush, Secret Past, Sherlock Apologizes, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Ships Them, Watching Movies, in his own special way, maurice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Sherlock's Christmas gift to Mycroft is a set of film clips. From Greg Lestrade's previous career as a young actor. Who did nude scenes.AKA Mycroft discoversMaurice.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 34
Kudos: 84
Collections: 12 Days of Mystrade and Friends, Mystrade Holiday 2020





	Happy Christmas, Brother Mine

Mycroft paused at the closed door. He'd once loved his home cinema, but he hadn't dared use it since Sherlock and Watson had poisoned the experience for him. He really should donate the equipment and films and have the room remade. He could have his dismal kitchen redone at the same time. 

He had no idea what else his house needed, though, so he was still trying to determine what should replace the theater area. He already had his treadmill and other workout equipment in a light, bright room, so a home gym was out. He had a home office in his library and a wine cellar. He spent enough time looking at screens, when he had to, so a high-tech media room was right out -- and it would likely remind him too much of the reason he made the change, anyway. 

He'd have to have his assistant consult estate agents to find out what was considered important without being trendy. Although resale value wasn't a significant factor, as he saw no need to move. They'd likely find him at his desk one day. Perhaps several days after. 

My gracious, the holidays made him maudlin these days. He supposed it was his odd connection to his brother. Sherlock had begun looking forward to Christmas, although he would never admit it, now that he had a child to consider and plan for and spoil. As Sherlock became more festive, he himself grew more to resemble Scrooge. At least that classic allowed some space for hope. Although if he began seeing ghosts... enough. 

Mycroft checked his pocket watch and continued down the hall to his study. Perhaps it wasn't too early for a little nip. And he'd been meaning to finish the James edition of _Edwin Drood_ he'd acquired, after which he'd gift it to his brother. He thought Sherlock might appreciate the most famous unfinished literary mystery, or at least, given it was a handsome antique volume, Watson would prevent him from destroying it immediately upon receipt.

* * *

Sherlock rushed into the back room of the film production office. He only had a few minutes, while the police processed the arrests of the staff, to find what had to be there. The case -- using the cover of movie-making to create blackmail footage -- was pedestrian, but he'd agreed to take it when his research had revealed an unexpected curiosity among their older projects. 

He looked around, past the shelves of videotape, while stepping over the random boxes and metal film reels scattered across the floor. Where would the older projects be? Ah! Thankfully, before the production studio had descended into its unsavory activities, someone had cared about their creations, labeling the older film works carefully and storing them in the back corners of the room, where they were least likely to be disturbed. 

Given the length of a feature film, he wouldn't be able to take all the relevant footage, but there should be ... yes! These two smaller reels would have the selections he needed. He secreted them in his pocket and swept out. It would ruin his plans for his acquisition to be noticed at this point in the plan. He re-entered the main office just in time, as Lestrade was beginning to look around for him. Time for him to be brilliant.

* * *

Mycroft woke to the unexpected noise of a break-in. Nothing as obvious as shattered glass, but that particular combination of creaks and clinks meant that Sherlock wanted his attention. He sighed to himself, breathing in slowly and deeply to summon his strength before opening his eyes, getting out of bed, and gathering his dressing gown around himself. 

The sounds led him, surprisingly, to the theater room. He hesitated, then entered, turning on the overhead lights and revealing Sherlock, leaning against the wall next to the screen. A slow smile broke out across his little brother's face. 

Sherlock reached inside his coat and withdrew two reels of film with an incongruous red bow haphazardly stuck on top of one of them. He offered them over to Mycroft, who extended his hand on instinct to take them. All the time, Mycroft kept his eyes on Sherlock's face. He was afraid to look away, for fear he'd miss something explaining this atypical behavior. Thankfully, there were none of the usual signs of chemical alteration. 

Once the film was in Mycroft's hands, Sherlock put his gloved hands back into his pockets and smirked. "Don't worry, brother dear. I came only to deliver your Christmas present." He nodded towards the reels. "No emergency, nothing requiring the attention of the British empire. Just our best wishes for the season." 

Sherlock paused. "Although you might want to watch those before mentioning them to John. He thinks I'm here merely to extend an invitation." He looked around the space. "And you'll need to clean the projector first. Dust scratches, as you know, and the cleaners wouldn't have dared touch your equipment, although they've kept up the rest of the room." 

Sherlock looked directly at his brother, the false expressions falling from his face. "I _am_ sorry, Mycroft. John tends to bring out both the best and worst in me. It is no easy thing to be responsible for a child's life, I understand that now."

Sherlock straightened up and clapped his hands together. "Now. We hope you will come over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. It's quite entertaining watching Rosie cope with the over-stimulation of gifts. But it's entirely up to you. I can promise you Mrs. Hudson makes the best mince pies and custard tarts in England, and we've got quite a good bottle to go with them, thanks to a pretentious client." 

Mycroft carefully schooled his features. Sherlock's embrace of sentiment of late had felt rather like being carried away by the undertow. Deceptive, until it overwhelmed and exhausted you. It took even him a few minutes to process all the parts of that little speech. 

He cleared his throat and knew he'd better take advantage of the opening. Lord knew when such an invitation would come again. "Thank you, I believe I will be able to join you, for a short time. I'll contact John to arrange something to bring, shall I?" 

"Probably for the best. Now, I'll let myself out again. Later, gator." And Sherlock was down the hall and away. 

Mycroft collapsed, slowly and gracefully, into the central armchair. He gazed in wonder at the film reels in his hand, wondering what could have possessed Sherlock to bring these over at such a time. He hoped it wasn't another of his schemes to conceal evidence. Making charges of impeding an investigation go away was easy enough, but everything took longer at this time of year. 

He was wool-gathering, obviously. He knew he wouldn't get back to sleep at this point without solving the mystery Sherlock had gifted him. He didn't particularly want a puzzle for Christmas, but how like his brother to follow the advice of "give what you'd like to receive". He stood up, placing the films carefully to the side. Sherlock was right; he'd have to clean the projector before he could find out. And he might as well have some hot chocolate for his viewing. With a shot of Drambuie.

* * *

Tasks completed, film threaded, spiked cocoa steaming, Mycroft screwed up his courage and started the projector. He'd have to trust Sherlock that this wasn't another experiment in psychological manipulation, and that his brother wouldn't be so cruel as to purposefully shock him. Sherlock had demonstrated earlier that some things had changed, however, so he would extend back enough goodwill to try and bridge the gap between them.

The reel began with a movie trailer, for a period piece clearly some decades old. The women in large hats and fussy, high-necked dresses nattering about whether they had a view from their rooms had little interest for him. Mycroft found himself wondering "why am I supposed to care about this?" and not really paying attention. 

Then naked men ran across the screen. Mycroft instantly missed the controls that came with his video screens, as there was something familiar about one of the nude men cavorting, but he had no ability to easily pause and replay on this equipment. And that view would be worth seeing again. The dark-haired one, in particular, who clutched at himself and looked shy, was intriguing, although it turned out that he didn't appear again in this clip. Shame. 

Finally, some credits appeared -- although the impish, almost-recognizable boy wasn't identified -- with a title _A Room With a View_. Mycroft could easily have that sourced, to answer his nagging curiosity. But the film reel kept going, with another version of that film's trailer. 

This time, Mycroft was ready for the interlude, where the male characters were apparently bathing nude, but he still wasn't able to make out the person whose appearance was tickling the back of his brain. To be fair, there was a lot to look at in a short period of time. He hadn't realized art films from the 1980s were so open-minded in what they might show. 

The reel continued. Next came a trailer for another movie from the same studio and era, with many of the same actors. This one was apparently called _Maurice_. The brunette boy had a speaking role, but Mycroft was temporarily distracted by the premise. He remembered those days, and a film with a love story between two men wasn't that common. He might have found popular entertainment more worthwhile to follow if it was. 

Then the boy, "Scudder", appeared in a suit, and Mycroft's mouth dropped open as he recognized the actor. Sherlock's gift was a shock, yes, but one not intended to frighten him. That lovely young man, with brunette curls and rough voice, was DI Lestrade in his younger days. 

How had Mycroft not known this about his brother's colleague? Of course the man hadn't been born a police officer, but an acting career?!? His thoughts swirled until Lestrade again appeared, near the end of the clip, lying by a fire and looking up with love at his partner. Gracious, that young man was gorgeous, all deep eyes and captivating smile. The modern-day version was distractingly attractive, but in his youth? Devastating. 

If this was his Christmas present, this knowledge of Lestrade's history and evidence of his glorious appearance, well. Sherlock had definitely improved his gift-giving skills. Mycroft thought he'd done an excellent job maintaining a professional relationship with the man in spite of his appreciation of Lestrade's good looks and undefinable charisma. He had and would never allow such a sentimental reaction to be visible. There was no gain and much potential for disruption if he did. He still occasionally underestimated his brother, though; he should have known that Sherlock would have worked it out. 

Mycroft supposed he should be thankful he hadn't been teased at any point on this subject. Remarkably tactful of Sherlock, that. Still, this gift had a sting in the tail. This awareness had the potential to make his working relationship with the detective inspector more difficult. He couldn't unsee that angelic face or that magnificent smile. What would it feel like to be looked at that way, with such acceptance and promise? 

No point thinking about such things now. It was late, he now had plans tomorrow, and he hadn't yet seen the second film reel Sherlock had dropped off. What might that be? He'd better finish up quickly. He couldn't stay up all night watching dusty film clips from another era. He'd need his wits about him tomorrow, particularly when Sherlock wanted to know how he found his present. Yet in spite of his wariness, Mycroft found himself almost eager to see the second half of his gift.

* * *

Cocoa mug washed and put away, Mycroft all tidied up and ready for bed after, he curled his long legs up into his armchair, hugging his shins and resting his chin on his knees. He hadn't felt so ready for Christmas since he was a boy. The pajamas and dressing gown he was wearing were helping with the mood, that of festivity just around the corner, if only he were patient. 

He'd had plenty of practice with patience. Rarely did it come with the tease of anticipation. He'd concluded that the first short set of film clips he'd seen must have been some kind of demo or promotional reel. What would the second be? And where did Sherlock find these things? Although he was prepared for jibes tomorrow, he did owe his brother quite the thank-you for this discovery. It was unusual for him to be so pleasantly surprised. 

He'd threaded the projector before his neatening, so all he had to do was push the button. He took a breath, suppressed a shiver of curiosity, and did so. 

As this second reel spooled, Mycroft was glad he wasn't drinking anything, as he would have made quite the mess. He was even more glad it was the middle of the night, as this felt all the more secret, protected from anyone's knowledge. 

This film was apparently intended for a more select audience, as the clips here had one specific focus. First, there was an extended version of the nude bathing scene from the first movie, where Mycroft learned that young Lestrade had had a lovely arse. Probably still did. Was there a way Mycroft could find out without Lestrade knowing? How hard would it be to manipulate Sherlock into spilling something on Lestrade's jacket, necessitating its removal, near a camera? Maybe Lestrade could be given a special offer to join a swimming club? Perhaps that was too on the nose. 

Mycroft mentally shook himself from his woolgathering and drew his attention back to the screen, just in time for a scene where Lestrade climbed up a ladder. He entered the window, staring possessively at a blond man, before embracing him in bed, kissing his neck and down his bare chest. Seeing the passion portrayed before him, Mycroft couldn't keep still. He began stroking his own long neck almost unconsciously, fingers toying with the first button of his pajama top. 

The next scene, the morning after, showed Lestrade in that bed, naked from the waist up, under his lover, who pinned his wrists and held him in place. Mycroft's breathing quickened. What would it feel like, to have access to him in that way? To touch his chest, broader now, and more furry. To lie in his arms and speak of life-long friendship. The image was so evocative Mycroft had to close his eyes and stop the projector to bring himself back under control. It was much too late, in so many ways, to be having these thoughts. 

After a few slow, controlled breaths, he started the film again, only to discover the pièce de résistance. In the final scene on the reel, Lestrade's character and his upper-class lover were talking in bed, before Lestrade, completely naked, left the sheets and walked around the room to get dressed. Mycroft gasped. My gracious, the boy back then wasn't shy. Mycroft was treated to all of the young man's charms, with nothing left to the imagination. Ah, to be that young and confident and unashamed. It was a glorious sight. 

His mind whirled. Lestrade's presence was breathtaking. Mycroft felt itchy all over, and as he kept seeing him, replaying the moment over and over in his mind's eye, his cock began to rise. This was the first time in months he'd gotten an erection without intending to. His hand stole down his silk-clad chest and under the belt of his dressing gown, cupping himself and shivering at his own touch. 

The flipping of the end of the reel jarred him from the moment. As Mycroft came back to himself, still hard and aching, hand over his cock, he realized his brother had quite the sense of humor. Sherlock may have turned over a new leaf for the holidays, but he still was teasing Mycroft. Damn. He found these scenes enticing, exciting, even erotic, but if his brother could figure out the extent of his reaction, Mycroft wouldn't be able to show his face for Christmas, as he'd promised. There was no way he was visiting Baker Street and having Sherlock realize he'd pleasured himself to his gift. He'd have to deny himself until after the holidays, much as he wanted to watch the images over and over. 

And wasn't that the perfect revenge. Sherlock had discovered what Mycroft himself didn't know he wanted. Then Sherlock gave it to him, in such a way that he had to deny its affect on him. Mycroft admired the way he simultaneously felt grateful and resentful. His brother would sympathize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to come! Mycroft wanted to stop and think for a while, though, to prepare himself for Christmas with his brother's family. And the next time he sees Greg Lestrade.
> 
> Here's much of the inspiration I used: 
> 
> [The _A Room With a View_ trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xetPWLjrZCc)
> 
> [The _Maurice_ trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0igNKncphdU)
> 
> [The ladder scene from _Maurice_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82S900uQGlI)
> 
>   
>    
> The gift of [_Edwin Drood_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mystery_of_Edwin_Drood) is a nod to Mark Gatiss' love of Charles Dickens, as seen in the "The Unquiet Dead", a Christmas-themed episode of _Doctor Who_ he wrote in which Dickens talks about his plans for the novel. The James edition, in particular, was praised by Arthur Conan Doyle because it claimed to have been ghost-written, which appealed to his love of spiritualism. 
> 
> Mycroft's musings about a swimming club is a nod to Rupert Graves' appearance in _Swimming With Men_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who participated in the 12 Days of Mystrade advent calendar, and to all those in the fandom who have been so welcoming and supportive to this new fan this year. Happy Christmas and best wishes for a better New Year.


End file.
